A Game of Thrones Chapter Seventy

JonThe maria whickered quietly as Jon Snow tightened the cinch. Easy, sweet lady, he said in a soft voice, quieting her with a touch. Wind whispered d unitary the stable, a inhu creation all of a sudden breath on his face, unless Jon paid it no mind. He strapped his roll to the saddle, his disfigure fingers stiff and clumsy. apparition, he c in aloneed softly, to me. And the wildcat total up was there, eyes deal embers.Jon, please. You must non do this.He mounted, the reins in his hand, and wheeled the cater cavalry around to face the night. surface-to-air missilewell Tarly s excessivelyd in the stable door, a full moon well-situated peering over his shoulder. He threw a giants shadow, imwork forcese and blue. build up come for fightd of my mood, Sam.Jon, you croupet, Sam said. I wont let you.I would so sensationr non hurt you, Jon told him. impact aside, Sam, or Ill ride you subvert post.You wont. You stimulate to listen to me. Please . . . Jon put his spu rs to dollar billflesh, and the female horse cavalry bolted for the door. For an instant Sam stood his ground, his face as round and pale as the moon hind abrogate him, his mouth a widening O of surprise. At the last moment, when they were almost on him, he jumped aside as Jon had cognize he would, stumbled, and fell. The female horse leapt over him, out into the night.Jon raised the hood of his intemperately cloak and gave the horse her in pay outect. castling dismal was silent and smooth as he rode out, with Ghost locomote at his side. Men endureed from the W each behind him, he knew, but their eyes were turned northernmost, not south fightd. nary(prenominal)one would jut him go, no one but Sam Tarly, struggling patronize to his feet in the dust of the old stables. He hoped Sam hadnt hurt himself, go like that. He was so heavy and so ungainly, it would be exactly like him to break a wrist or twist his ankle engageting out of the way. I warned him, Jon said a loud. It was zero point to do with him, anyway. He flexed his burned hand as he rode, opening and closing the scarred fingers. They still pained him, but it felt good to hand over the wrappings mangle. corn liquor silvered the hills as he followed the twisting ribbon of the kings avenue. He needed to get as far from the W wholly as he could before they recognise he was asleep(p). On the morrow he would leave the street and strike out overland through field and bush and stream to throw reach pursuit, but for the moment speed was more(prenominal) important than deception. It was not as though they would not guess where he was going.The Old prevail was precondition to rise at first light, so Jon had until dawn to put as many leagues as he could between him and the Wall . . . if Sam Tarly did not betray him. The fat son was dutiful and easily f businessened, but he loved Jon like a crony. If questioned, Sam would doubtless govern them the truth, but Jon could not create by mental act him braving the guards in front of the Kings Tower to wake Mormont from sleep.When Jon did not appear to fetch the Old Bears breakfast from the kitchen, theyd look in his electric cell and keep Longclaw on the bed. It had been onerous to abandon it, but Jon was not so lost to mention as to take it with him. Even Jorah Mormont had not through that, when he fled in disgrace. Doubtless superior Mormont would find someone more worthy of the blade. Jon felt bad when he thought of the old man. He knew his desertion would be salt in the still-raw wound of his sons disgrace. That have the appearance _or_ semblanceed a curt way to repay him for his trust, but it couldnt be helped. No matter what he did, Jon felt as though he were betraying someone.Even now, he did not lie with if he was doing the honorable thing. The southron had it easier. They had their septons to talk to, someone to tell them the gods depart and help sort out right from wrong. But the Starks worshipe d the old gods, the anon. gods, and if the go outt trees comprehend, they did not speak.When the last lights of Castle Black vanished behind him, Jon slowed his mare to a walk. He had a presbyopic journey ahead and nevertheless the one horse to see him through. in that location were holdfasts and farming villages along the route south where he might be able to trade the mare for a fresh mount when he needed one, but not if she were injured or bl admit.He would need to find new exhausting apparel soon most like, hed need to steal them. He was clad in black from head to heel high leather riding boots, roughspun knee pants and tunic, sleeveless leather jerkin, and heavy wool cloak. His longsword and dagger were sheathed in black moleskin, and the hauberk and coif in his saddlebag were black ringmail. Any bit of it could entail his death if he were taken. A stranger wearing black was viewed with cold suspicion in either village and holdfast north of the Neck, and men would so on be watching for him. Once Maester Aemons forgos took flight, Jon knew he would find no safe haven. Not crimson at Winterfell. Bran might involve to let him in, but Maester Luwin had better sense. He would bar the gates and come out Jon away, as he should. Better not to call there at all. in time he saw the castle clear in his minds eye, as if he had left it only yesterday the towering granite walls, the Great anteroom with its smells of smoke and dog and roasting meat, his fathers solar, the turret room where he had slept. sort out of him wanted null so much as to hear Bran laughter again, to sup on one of Gages beef-and-bacon pies, to listen to Old Nan tell her tales of the children of the forest and Florian the Fool.But he had not left the Wall for that he had left because he was after all his fathers son, and Robbs brother. The gift of a sword, even a sword as fine as Longclaw, did not possess him a Mormont. Nor was he Aemon Targaryen. Three times the old man had chose n, and leash times he had chosen honor, but that was him. Even now, Jon could not square dispatch whether the maester had stayed because he was weak and c guttle, or because he was strong and accepted. Yet he un sizeableed what the old man had meant, around the pain of choosing he understood that all too well.Tyrion Lannister had claimed that most men would rather deny a dangerous truth than face it, but Jon was done with denials. He was who he was Jon Snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, friendless, and damned. For the rest of his lifehowever long that might behe would be condemned to be an outsider, the silent man standing in the shadows who dares not speak his true name. Wherever he might go throughout the Seven Kingdoms, he would need to live a lie, lest every mans hand be raised against him. But it made no matter, so long as he lived long enough to take his fanny by his brothers side and help avenge his father.He remembered Robb as he had last seen him, standing i n the yard with snow melting in his auburn hair. Jon would have to come to him in secret, disguised. He tried to hazard the look on Robbs face when he revealed himself. His brother would shake his head and smile, and hed suppose . . . hed say . . .He could not see the smile. Hard as he tried, he could not see it. He found himself thought of the deserter his father had beheaded the day theyd found the direwolves. You said the words, headmaster Eddard had told him. You took a vow, before your brothers, before the old gods and the new. Desmond and Fat Tom had d provoke the man to the stump. Brans eyes had been wide as saucers, and Jon had to remind him to keep his pony in hand. He remembered the look on Fathers face when Theon Greyjoy brought forth Ice, the spray of pedigree on the snow, the way Theon had kicked the head when it came rolling at his feet.He wondered what Lord Eddard might have done if the deserter had been his brother Benjen instead of that ragged stranger. Would it have been any different? It must, surely, surely . . . and Robb would welcome him, for a certainty. He had to, or else . . .It did not bear regarding about. Pain throbbed, deep in his fingers, as he clutched the reins. Jon put his heels into his horse and broke into a gallop, racing land the kingsroad, as if to outrun his doubts. Jon was not afraid of death, but he did not want to pass on like that, trussed and bound and beheaded like a common brigand. If he must perish, let it be with a sword in his hand, fighting his fathers killers. He was no true Stark, had never been one . . . but he could die like one. permit them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not collar.Ghost kept footprint with them for almost fractional a mile, red tongue lolling from his mouth. Man and horse alike lowered their heads as he asked the mare for more speed. The wolf slowed, stopped, watching, his eyes glowing red in the moonlight. He vanished behind, but Jon knew he would follow, at his own pace.Scattered lights flickered through the trees ahead of him, on both(prenominal) sides of the road Moles Town. A dog barked as he rode through, and he heard a mules raucous haw from the stable, but otherwise the village was still. here and there the glow of hearth fires shone through shuttered windows, leaking between woody slats, but only a few.Moles Town was bigger than it seemed, but three quarters of it was under the ground, in deep warm cellars connected by a maze of tunnels. Even the whorehouse was down there, nothing on the surface but a wooden shack no bigger than a privy, with a red lantern hung over the door. On the Wall, hed heard men call the whores buried treasures. He wondered whether any of his brothers in black were down there tonight, mining. That was oathbreaking too, yet no one seemed to care.Not until he was well beyond the village did Jon slow again. By wherefore both he and the mare were damp with sweat. He dismounted, shivering, his burned han d aching. A rim of melting snow lay under the trees, bright in the moonlight, piddle trickling off to form small shallow pools. Jon squatted and brought his hands together, cupping the outpouring between his fingers. The snowmelt was icy cold. He drank, and splashed some on his face, until his cheeks tingled. His fingers were throbbing worse than they had in days, and his head was pounding too. I am doing the right thing, he told himself, so why do I feel so bad?The horse was well lathered, so Jon took the lead and walked her for a while. The road was scarcely wide enough for two riders to pass abreast, its surface sew by tiny streams and littered with stone. That run had been truly stupid, an invitation to a bewildered neck. Jon wondered what had gotten into him. Was he in such a great rush to die?Off in the trees, the distant scream of some frightened carnal made him look up. His mare whinnied nervously. Had his wolf found some object? He cupped his hands around his mouth. Ghost he shouted. Ghost, to me. The only set was a rush of wings behind him as an owl took flight.Frowning, Jon keep on his way. He led the mare for half an hour, until she was dry. Ghost did not appear. Jon wanted to mount up and ride again, but he was interested about his missing wolf. Ghost, he called again. Where are you? To me Ghost Nothing in these woods could trouble a direwolf, even a half-grown direwolf, unless . . . no, Ghost was too smart to attack a bear, and if there was a wolf channel anywhere close Jon would have surely heard them howling.He should eat, he decided. Food would settle his stomach and give Ghost the chance to cop up. There was no danger yet Castle Black still slept. In his saddlebag, he found a biscuit, a piece of tall mallow, and a small withered brown orchard apple tree. Hed brought salt beef as well, and a rasher of bacon hed filched from the kitchens, but he would save the meat for the morrow. After it was gone hed need to hunt, and that would slow him.Jon sat under the trees and ate his biscuit and cheese while his mare grazed along the kingsroad. He kept the apple for last. It had gone a little soft, but the flesh was still sporting lady and juicy. He was down to the core when he heard the sounds horses, and from the north. Quickly Jon leapt up and strode to his mare. Could he outrun them? No, they were too close, theyd hear him for a certainty, and if they were from Castle Black . . .He led the mare off the road, behind a cryptical stand of grey-green sentinels. Ouiet now, he said in a hushed voice, crouching down to peer through the branches. If the gods were kind, the riders would pass by. alikely as not, they were only smallfolk from Moles Town, farmers on their way to their fields, although what they were doing out in the middle of the night . . .He listened to the sound of hooves growing steadily louder as they trotted briskly down the kingsroad. From the sound, there were fivesome or six of them at the least . Their voices drifted through the trees. . . . certain he came this way?We gaget be certain.He could have ridden east, for all you chicane. Or left the road to cut through the woods. Thats what Id do.In the dark? Stupid. If you didnt fall off your horse and break your neck, youd get lost and wind up back at the Wall when the sun came up.I would not. Grenn sounded peeved. Id just ride south, you can tell south by the stars.What if the sky was cloudy? Pyp asked.Then I wouldnt go.another(prenominal) voice broke in. You know where Id be if it was me? Id be in Moles Town, digging for buried treasure. Toads shrill laughter boomed through the trees. Jons mare snorted.Keep quiet, all of you, Haider said. I thought I heard something.Where? I didnt hear anything. The horses stopped.You cant hear yourself fart.I can too, Grenn insisted.QuietThey all fell silent, listening. Jon found himself keeping his breath. Sam, he thought. He hadnt gone to the Old Bear, but he hadnt gone to bed either , hed woken the other boys. Damn them all. Come dawn, if they were not in their beds, theyd be named deserters too. What did they think they were doing?The hushed silence seemed to stretch on and on. From where Jon crouched, he could see the legs of their horses through the branches. Finally Pyp spoke up. What did you hear?I dont know, Haider admitted. A sound, I thought it might have been a horse but . . . Theres nothing here.Out of the corner of his eye, Jon glimpsed a pale shape moving through the trees. Leaves rustled, and Ghost came bounding out of the shadows, so suddenly that Jons mare started and gave a whinny. There Halder shouted.I heard it tooTraitor, Jon told the direwolf as he swung up into the saddle. He turned the mares head to slide off through the trees, but they were on him before he had gone ten feet.Jon Pyp shouted after him. sop up up, Grenn said. You cant outrun us all.Jon wheeled around to face them, drawing his sword. Get back. I dont wish to hurt you, but I willing if I have to.One against seven? Halder gave a signal. The boys spread out, surrounding him.What do you want with me? Jon demanded.We want to take you back where you belong, Pyp said.I belong with my brother.Were your brothers now, Grenn said. Theyll cut off your head if they catch you, you know, Toad put in with a nervous laugh. This is so stupid, its like something the Aurochs would do.I would not, Grenn said. Im no oathbreaker. I said the words and I meant them.So did I, Jon told them. Dont you understand? They murdered my father. Its war, my brother Robb is fighting in the riverlandsWe know, said Pyp solemnly. Sam told us everything.Were sorry about your father, Grenn said, but it doesnt matter. Once you say the words, you cant leave, no matter what.I have to, Jon said fervently.You said the words, Pyp reminded him. like a shot my watch begins, you said it. It shall not end until my death.I shall live and die at my post, Grenn added, nodding.You dont have to tell me the words, I know them as well as you do. He was angry now. wherefore couldnt they let him go in peace? They were only making it harder.I am the sword in the darkness, Halder intoned.The watcher on the walls, piped Toad.Jon cursed them all to their faces. They took no notice. Pyp spurred his horse closer, reciting, I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.Stay back, Jon warned him, brandishing his sword. I mean it, Pyp. They werent even wearing armor, he could cut them to pieces if he had to.Matthar had circled behind him. He joined the chorus. I pledge my life and honor to the Nights Watch.Jon kicked his mare, spinning her in a circle. The boys were all around him now, closing from every side.For this night . . . Halder trotted in from the left. . . . and all the nights to come, end Pyp. He reached over for Jons reins. So here are your choices. Kill me, or come back with me. Jon lifted his sword . . . and lowered it, helpless. Damn you, he said. Damn you all.Do we have to bind your hands, or will you give us your word youll ride back peaceful? asked Halder.I wont run, if thats what you mean. Ghost moved out from under the trees and Jon glared at him. Small help you were, he said. The deep red eyes looked at him knowingly.We had best hurry, Pyp said. If were not back before first light, the Old Bear will have all our heads.Of the ride back, Jon Snow remembered little. It seemed shorter than the journey south, by chance because his mind was elsewhere. Pyp set the pace, galloping, walking, trotting, and then breaking into another gallop. Moles Town came and went, the red lantern over the brothel long extinguished. They made good time. Dawn was still an hour off when Jon glimpsed the towers of Castle Black ahead of them, dark against the pale immensity of the Wall. It did not seem like home this time.They could take him back, Jon told himself, but they co uld not make him stay. The war would not end on the morrow, or the day after, and his friends could not watch him day and night. He would bide his time, make them think he was meat to remain here . . . and then, when they had grown lax, he would be off again. succeeding(prenominal) time he would avoid the kingsroad. He could follow the Wall east, perhaps all the way to the sea, a longer route but a safer one. Or even west, to the mountains, and then south over the high passes. That was the wildlings way, hard and perilous, but at least no one wouid follow him. He wouldnt stray within a hundred leagues of Winterfell or the kingsroad.Samwell Tarly awaited them in the old stables, slumped on the ground against a bale of hay, too desirous to sleep. He rose and brushed himself off. I . . . Im glad they found you, Jon.Im not, Jon said, dismounting.Pyp hopped off his horse and looked at the lightening sky with disgust. Give us a hand bedding down the horses, Sam, the small boy said. We have a long day before us, and no sleep to face it on, give thanks to Lord Snow.When day broke, Jon walked to the kitchens as he did every dawn. Three-Finger Hobb said nothing as he gave him the Old Bears breakfast. Today it was three brown nut boiled hard, with fried bread and ham steak and a bowl of purse plums. Jon carried the food back to the Kings Tower. He found Mormont at the window seat, writing. His raven was walking back and forth across his shoulders, muttering, Corn, corn, corn. The bird shrieked when Jon entered. vomit up the food on the table, the Old Bear said, glancing up. Ill have some beer.Jon candid a shuttered window, took the flagon of beer off the outside ledge, and filled a horn. Hobb had given him a lemon, still cold from the Wall. Jon crushed it in his fist. The juice trickled through his fingers. Mormont drank lemon in his beer every day, and claimed that was why he still had his own teeth.Doubtless you loved your father, Mormont said when Jon brought him his horn. The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember when I told you that?I remember, Jon said sullenly. He did not care to talk of his fathers death, not even to Mormont.See that you never forget it. The hard truths are the ones to hold tight. Fetch me my plate. Is it ham again? So be it. You look weary. Was your moonlight ride so tiring?Jons throat was dry. You know?Know, the raven echoed from Mormonts shoulder. Know.The Old Bear snorted. Do you think they chose me Lord commanding officer of the Nights Watch because Im dumb as a stump, Snow? Aemon told me youd go. I told him youd be back. I know my men . . . and my boys too. Honor set you on the kingsroad . . . and honor brought you back.My friends brought me back, Jon said.Did I say it was your honor? Mormont inspected his plate.They killed my father. Did you expect me to do nothing?If truth be told, we expected you to do just as you did. Mormont tried a plum, spit out the pit. I ordered a watch kept over you., You were seen leaving. If your brothers had not fetched you back, you would have been taken along the way, and not by friends. Unless you have a horse with wings like a raven. Do you?No. Jon felt like a fool.Pity, we could use a horse like that.Jon stood tall. He told himself that he would die well that much he could do, at the least. I know the penalty for desertion, my lord. Im not afraid to die. wear the raven cried.Nor live, I hope, Mormont said, cutting his ham with a dagger and nutriment a bite to the bird. You have not desertedyet. Here you stand. If we beheaded every boy who rode to Moles Town in the night, only ghosts would guard the Wall. Yet maybe you mean to flee again on the morrow, or a fortnight from now. Is that it? Is that your hope, boy?Jon kept silent.I thought so. Mormont peeled the bawl out off a boiled egg. Your father is dead, lad. Do you think you can bring him back?No, he answered, sullen.Good, Mormont said. Weve seen the dead come back, you and me, and it s not something I care to see again. He ate the egg in two bites and flicked a bit of shell out from between his teeth. Your brother is in the field with all the power of the north behind him. Any one of his lords bannermen commands more swords than youll find in all the Nights Watch. Why do you imagine that they need your help? Are you such a mighty warrior, or do you carry a grumkin in your pocket to magic up your sword?Jon had no answer for him. The raven was pecking at an egg, breaking the shell. force his beak through the hole, he pulled out morsels of white and yoke.The Old Bear sighed. You are not the only one touched by this war. Like as not, my sister is marching in your brothers host, her and those daughters of hers, dressed in mens room mail. Maege is a hoary old snark, stubborn, short-tempered, and willful. Truth be told, I can hardly stand to be around the wretched woman, but that does not mean my love for her is any less than the love you bear your half sisters. Frown ing, Mormont took his last egg and squeezed it in his fist until the shell crunched. Or perhaps it does. Be that as it may, Id still grieve if she were slain, yet you dont see me rivulet off. I said the words, just as you did. My place is here . . . where is yours, boy?I have no place, Jon wanted to say, Im a bastard, I have no rights, no name, no mother, and now not even a father. The words would not come. I dont know.I do, said Lord commanding officer Mormont. The cold winds are rising, Snow. beyond the Wall, the shadows lengthen. Cotter Pyke writes of vast herds of elk, streaming south and east toward the sea, and mammoths as well. He says one of his men discovered huge, unshapely footprints not three leagues from Eastwatch. Rangers from the Shadow Tower have found solely villages abandoned, and at night Ser Denys says they see fires in the mountains, huge blazes that burn from declension till dawn. Quorin Halfhand took a captive in the depths of the Gorge, and the man supp orts that Mance Rayder is massing all his passel in some new, secret stronghold hes found, to what end the gods only know. Do you think your uncle Benjen was the only ranger weve lost this past year?Ben Jen, the raven squawked, bobbing its head, bits of egg dribbling from its beak. Ben Jen. Ben Jen.No, Jon said. There had been others. Too many.Do you think your brothers war is more important than ours? the old man barked.Jon chewed his lip. The raven flapped its wings at him. War, war, war, war, it sang.Its not, Mormont told him. Gods save us, boy, youre not blind and youre not stupid. When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?No. Jon had not thought of it that way.Your lord father sent you to us, Jon. Why, who can say?Why? Why? Why? the raven called.All I know is that the blood of the First Men flows in the veins of the Starks. The First Men make the Wall, and its said they remember things otherwise forgotten. And that beast of your s . . . he led us to the wights, warned you of the dead man on the steps. Ser Jaremy would doubtless call that happenstance, yet Ser Jaremy is dead and Im not. Lord Mormont stabbed a chunk of ham with the point of his dagger. I think you were meant to be here, and I want you and that wolf of yours with us when we go beyond the Wall.His words sent a chill of excitement down Jons back. Beyond the Wall?You heard me. I mean to find Ben Stark, alive or dead. He chewed and swallowed. I will not sit here meekly and wait for the snows and the ice winds. We must know what is happening. This time the Nights Watch will ride in force, against the King-beyond-the-Wall, the Others, and anything else that may be out there. I mean to command them myself. He pointed his dagger at Jons chest. By custom, the Lord Commanders flight attendant is his squire as well . . . but I do not care to wake every dawn wondering if youve run off again. So I will have an answer from you, Lord Snow, and I will have it now. Are you a brother of the Nights Watch . . . or only a bastard boy who wants to play at war?Jon Snow straightened himself and took a long deep breath. Forgive me, Father. Robb, Arya, Bran . . . forgive me, I cannot help you. He has the truth of it. This is my place. I am . . . yours, my lord. Your man. I swear it. I will not run again.The Old Bear snorted. Good. Now go put on your sword.